


Gregstophe Moment (Hellpark Edition

by OrcaDatWriter



Category: Hellpark, South Park
Genre: Hellpark - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 18:42:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrcaDatWriter/pseuds/OrcaDatWriter
Summary: Hellpark & it’s au is courtesy of Doodlestab on TumblrChristophe & Gregory belong to Matt Stone & Trey Parker





	Gregstophe Moment (Hellpark Edition

**Author's Note:**

> Hellpark & it’s au is courtesy of Doodlestab on Tumblr
> 
> Christophe & Gregory belong to Matt Stone & Trey Parker

Gregory knew what the word lost meant, it was both a bad and a good thing to be lost. He’d been in hell for quite some time now, doing whatever it was that demons did, sipping some of Estella’s black herbal tea and dealing with Thomas’s non-stop vomiting.  
Gregory sought out trying to be, well, Gregory as he wandered the seemingly endless pit that was hell. It wasn’t until, maybe about a day ago did Greg & company finally escape their usual homestead, as it turned out, as told by his “companion” Tweek, someone had activated a portal to the human world after playing a game of Ouija, “Satan’s Telephone” as Estella would’ve called it.  
Returning to South Park seemed odd to say the least as not much had changed, minus the loss of snow as the autumn season had arrived. What was most important to Gregory however, was to get to Stanley Jedediah Marsh.  
Ever since that day he slipped on that dreaded banana peel at the Grand Canyon, Gregory swore revenge on Stan. He wondered if Stan had seen his body hit the ground, splatting with a crack sound as Gregory landed directly on his back, with the world turning into a black void of nothingness...  
Nowadays, Greg’s back was forever plagued with an icky black goo splotch, it *did* however give Gregory an extra hand, or two, or four... Yes, Gregory now had slime arms, which was horrible considering Greg always needed to keep clean, now he had these drippy, mucky hands coming from his spine, thank god he had his gloves.  
Some of the other demons weren’t much better, Tweek breathed fire, Estella had mind control, Thomas has never ending blood vomit, and Pip, by the gods, Pip was a mess with all those chompers, at least it made eating flesh easier.  
And although Gregory had company, they weren’t the best people to be around, with Tweek’s nonstop worrying and Estella’s annoying humiliating remarks, combined with Pip’s overwhelming positivity and Thomas’s never-ending throw up, making a mess of wherever the quintet were, Greg could not think, if only Mole had come.  
No, it was too late, Mole had died long ago, back when Gregory still had his dignity, it seemed only yesterday Stan & his friend Kyle had broke to him the news about Mole’s untimely demise, poor soul didn’t even like dogs let alone his own mother...  
The more Gregory thought about Mole, the more it hurt to even do or say anything about him, not that Estella or the others would care anyways, they were focused too much on hunting Stan or talking about other things, like some guy named Damien or how they died.  
Gregory didn’t want to hear it, he just wanted peace, of course, there is no peace when you’re trying to kill a boy who ended your life whether it was an accident or not. At the moment, actually, peace seemed to be out of the question..

“Oh dear..... Sorry Thomas!” Pip exclaimed as he backed away from what used to be Thomas, his face had been chewed off completely, with his jet sharp teeth being the only thing that made his face recognizable.  
“You imbecile! You let them get away!” Estella shouted  
“Oh, I let them get away? Tweek was the one who pushed Craig out of the way and let poor Thomas die, so there’s no need to blame me over this!” Gregory hissed as his pupils turned into thin red slits  
“Well maybe if you had just flung that sorry excuse of a trash bag full of puss off the bridge like I suggested, none of this would have happened!”  
Pip poked & prodded at Thomas’s body  
“Thomas? Tommy ol’ chap, are you okay?” Pip faltered as he shook the still dirty blond’s corpse  
Gregory sighed.  
“Pip, Thomas is going to be just fine, he just needs to regenerate for a while.”  
“Well he better hurry it up, those tone-deaf taint clowns are probably miles away from here now, and they’ll probably be even farther if we don’t find them.” Estella snapped, her pupils widening back to their usual circles.  
Gregory scooped up Thomas and threw him on his shoulder  
“Sorry to interrupt, chaps, but shouldn’t we split up while we find Stanley? Perhaps it’ll save us time if we stop arguing and get a move on.” Pip suggested  
“Excellent thinking Pip, maybe then it’ll not only save us time, but maybe some more time to simmer down a tad.” Greg sneered.  
Pip took the high ground as he soared into the bleary night sky, Estella seemed to have teleported somewhere to search for Stan and the others, while Gregory simply trudged, dragging poor Thomas’s lifeless body around like an old broom.  
Gregory mumbled & cursed to himself as Thomas was being dragged, his head being bumped on rocks & his hair getting stuck in twigs, as well as the occasional getting his foot stuck in a log, which took a bit of effort with Gregory having to pull his leg out constantly, he’d almost lost his shoe at one point being pulled out.  
He wondered if this kind of thing happened to Mole when he died, having to have his body dragged in the mud and snow-slush to his burial ground, where his coffin and grave were waiting. He was sure he didn’t mind, Mole would be underground often and most likely got

used to having dirt all over him, Mole was actually the only kind of dirt Gregory had liked being around, so what if he had some vulgar language? At least it wasn’t as obnoxious & hilariously bad as what he’d heard Estella say. God how Gregory missed that dirty old frenchie....  
Gregory needed to take a break, he was possibly going to be by himself for a while, at least until Estella or Pip found Craig’s gang and Tweek, the overwhelmed traitor, he found a nice clean area with a small lake (which was also free of logs to get stuck in) and sat on a tree stump, setting Thomas right beside a pine tree.  
Gregory found himself thinking about Mole- no, Toffee- again. Even as children, Toffee’s strength had been impressive. They sparred only once, and that was because he’d handed Gregory his ass on a silver platter. Gregory faintly recalled being pinned to the ground and staring at his old friend in wonder, or perhaps something else that the blonde couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was akin to grabbing mist at this point.  
“... I never talk about him anymore, I’ve found.” Gregory said to Thomas’ body. He didn’t really care he was talking to a dead person, he just wanted someone to talk with.  
“He was absolutely beautiful as I recall him being... One eye was a warm chocolate color, the other a cold sapphire... If only people were more accepting, I could have found the courage to tell him how much I cared about him... How I wished we could have been together in a more... close manner...” Gregory hummed as he looked up at the sky.  
“... I wanted to kill him, you know... Eric Cartman... His incompetence led to my best friend’s death...” Gregory dug his fingers into the sleeves of his shirt.  
“I wonder what he’d think of me now...” Gregory whispered. “Not being able to find him... no, not looking hard enough for him...”  
There was silence from Thomas, since he was dead, but Gregory took a deep breath and put on a fake french accent.  
“Oh, Gregory, you look absolutely fucking ridiculous!” He spouted in a bad impersonation of Christophe.  
“Zat goo on your back is gross, and your ponytail makes you look like an oh-moh-sec-ju-val.”  
Gregory burst into a fit of giggles at his horrible impression.  
“Oh he would hit me with his shovel for that.” He said, dropping the fake accent.  
As Gregory was chatting with the corpse of Blood-Vomit Thomas, he voice murmured down as he started hearing a song, one he hadn’t heard since childhood.

“Be still, be safe, be sure  
Je t'aime, je t'aime toujour  
Wishing, praying  
All of your dreams come true  
Please remember  
Where'er you are my heart is with you”  
Gregory used his goop arms to swing up into a nearby tree to hide while he searched for the singer. A part of him wished it was Christophe, but another part wished it wasn’t. Years in hell left him slightly more animalistic when it came to how he moved, though he retained some class. He was like a cat in that regard. He slinked among the leaves to where the singing came from, peeking out from the greenery to see who it was.  
The singing had been traced back to a hole in the ground, piles upon piles of dirt stacked up behind it, with its fresh earthy scent plaguing the cold October air, the music, next to it was a radio, and, although muffled, the singing switched from basic humming & whistling, before finally switching to a voice, one that Gregory never heard before.  
It was hard to tell as the voice originated underground, but it was deep & gentle and seemed to have some sort of magic to it, it almost lulled Gregory into a trance with how beautiful it was.  
And then, almost from the ground like magic, Mole appeared....  
Gregory prowled closer, along the tree branch, not noticing the warning crackle of the wood until it was too late, and he was falling. On impulse, he yelled “WATCH OUT!” before landing right onto Christophe with a resounding “oof” as the air was knocked out of them both.  
Greg felt like his rib cage had been ripped out from his body & forcefully placed back inside him, he felt his whole world go dizzy as he tried to regain consciousness.  
“Goodness gracious.. Wh- Where am I?” Gregory stammered, shaking off whatever daze he had to regain his normalcy, he hoped this incident didn’t make his brain all kooky. Gregory looked up and froze in place, wide eyed at the sight. It was Christophe... except... good lord he was big...  
“Oh good god...” He murmured, feeling his face warm as he noticed the subtle shifts of Christophe’s muscles as the french man moved. The heat blossomed further on his cheeks as he saw Christophe glaring at him.  
“And just who the fuck are you?” Christophe snapped, the deeper voice sending chills up Gregory’s poor abused spine.

“Ch-Christophe? Is that you?” Gregory looked up to face Christophe, who’s appearance still seemed pretty dirty, only now he wore a dark green fur lined jacket & brown army pants with overall straps.  
“... Greg?” Christophe squinted at him. “Is that you, mon ange?”  
Gregory gave a nervous chuckle at the irony of that particular pet name.  
“Been a long time, no?” Gregory gave a weak little grin as he spoke, sitting up once his head stopped spinning.  
“Oui, it has... where the hell have you been?” Christophe demanded, yanking Gregory up to stand.  
“Uhm... dead... looking for you...” Gregory allowed his hands to linger on Mole’s for a while. It had been so long that he forgot the little jolts of electricity he always felt whenever he did anything physically intimate with Christophe. He loved them so much...  
“What?!” Christophe backed up,  
“But I- I died, G regory, why in God’s name would you look for me now, after all this time?”  
Now it was Mole’s turn to be confused, why would Greg look for him when he was dead, buried underground, never waking up until Kenny made his sacrifice. Tears were starting to sting his eyes.  
“Toffee...” Gregory whispered in a tender, comforting tone, stepping forward to place both his hands on Christophe’s cheeks.  
“I thought you were still dead too... I searched all over hell for you...” He took a moment to gently wipe away one of Mole’s tears. “I never found you until now... not a day went by when I didn’t miss you... I never stopped wishing I could have found you...”  
Gregory pulled Christophe into a hug, wanting to cling to him forever like this. His gooey arms slithered out of their cracks and wrapped around Christophe, holding the french man closer.  
“I love you, Christophe, my chèri. Forever and always...”  
Christophe’s tears & soft whimpers turned into huge sobs & bawling as he cried into Gregory’s shoulder, ignoring Gregory’s odd slimey arms.  
Gregory gently stroked Christophe’s hair, whispering words of comfort to his beloved while his extra arms held Christophe tighter.  
“My beautiful boy... I’m here now, there’s no need to cry, darling... I’m here...”

Gregory whispered while holding back tears of his own.  
Mole calmed down slightly, tears still streaming down his face  
“I.... I love you too, mon angè.” Christophe murmured.  
Gregory gave Chris a little smooch on the cheek.  
“I waited years to tell you that...” Gregory whispered, hugging Christophe again.  
“Well, I do have a history of waiting until the right time to say certain things, and this is no exception.” Christophe backed up, his express changed drastically once he noticed Gregory’s disgusting messy goo arms.  
“Mon dieu, Gregory! What in the hell is going on with you?! And what’s with all that nasty gunk on your back?!”  
“Oh, these? Well, uh.... Let’s just say that being in Hell definitely did a number or two on me.” Two horns jutted out of Gregory’s head.  
“See?”  
“... Well...” Christophe began, his shoulders dropping. “At least you didn’t go up there with that fucking rat bitch the others all call God.”  
“Indeed. These arms actually do come in handy when I want to be, I don’t know, a bit more romantic....” Gregory smirked.  
“What?”  
One of Gregory’s black goo hands grabbed Christophe’s arm, wrapping it in an icky black coil as Gregory pulled Chris closer to him.  
“Dance with me, Christophe. After all, you do have that boombox with you...”  
Gregory’s 3 other gooey arms reached over to the radio, one of them dialing to the right station & the other 2 messing with the antennae to find a good signal.  
“Alright but ... should we really do this now? In the middle of the night?”  
“Of course! It has been a while, so it’s only natural that we at least have some fun.” Gregory purred, his gaze landing of Mole’s fern green eyes.  
“Okay, but I should should pick the music...” Christophe murmured with a familiar tenderness. Gregory was the only one he’d ever allow himself to be vulnerable around.

Christophe pulled out a mixtape from his jacket pocket  
“Ha! You still use mixtapes? What are you, someone’s grandfather?”  
“Shut up, I made this for you , chèri!” Christophe argued playfully  
“This tape means the whole world to both me & you. In fact, it was the first song I ever sang to you...”  
“Wait... You saved that tape for a whole decade.... for me?” Gregory inclined, practically melting at Gregory  
“Oui, I was going to give it to you as a gift to show how much you really meant to me, but, after I died....” Christophe sighed  
“I guess I didn’t have the courage to tell how much I really cared about you.” “Oh, Chris...”  
Christophe popped the tape into the boombox and waited for it to play.  
“D'accord, il existait  
D'autres façons de se quitter Quelques éclats de verre Auraient peut-être pu nous aider Dans ce silence amer  
J'ai décidé de pardonner  
Les erreurs qu'on peut faire  
A trop s'aimer”  
“Hey! I remember this song! You sung it to me the day you confessed that you liked me!” Gregory exclaimed happily  
Christophe didn’t respond as he took both of Greg’s hands into his own, gently, slowly  
“D'accord, la petite fille  
En moi souvent te réclamait Presque comme une mère  
Tu me bourdais, me protégeais”  
Christophe’s voice blended with the song perfectly, only this time, he wasn’t underground, so the sheer beauty of his singing hit Gregory full force like a bullet train hitting it’s speed limit.  
“Your turn..” Christophe murmured

“Oh crap he wants me to sing?! Who does he think I am, Beethoven?” Gregory thought. He had only ever sung once or twice, but that was way back when Gregory was still a child, what if his voice cracked? Did he even know how to sing? What would happen if he didn’t follow the lyrics correctly?  
Gregory blushed as he slowly began to chime in tune with the song.  
“J-Je t'ai volé ce sang  
Qu'on aurait pas dû partager A bout de mots, de rêves  
Je vais crier.”  
His voice didn’t sound like his own for a moment, it seemed almost heavenly when he sang. Yes! Gregory still had it! How he was able to sing that well despite little to no practice, he wasn’t sure, but oh did it feel magical..  
“Je t'aime, je t'aime  
Comme un fou, comme un soldat Comme une star de cinéma  
Je t'aime, je t'aime  
Comme un loup, comme un roi Comme un homme que je ne suis pas Tu vois, je t'aime comme ça”  
Christophe & Gregory danced & sang their hearts away, doing the occasional twirling & the usual slow stepping, it was the most fun Gregory had had in a very, very long time.  
Christophe now curled up in Gregory’s lap, with his jacket now tied around his waist as the two looked to the stars.  
“Hey, Mole, I have a question for you.” Gregory inquired  
“Qui, what is it, Mon Beau?” Mole replied as he stretched.  
“What exactly did you do while I was, you know, gone?”  
“Oh, I just the same old same old, digging some shortcuts & hiding from this shithole known as human society, that’s all.” Christophe lit a cigarette and placed it in his mouth.  
“Hiding? What do you mean by hiding?” Gregory asked Christophe sighed  
“Greg, do you know what it feels to be completely ignored by those who’re supposed to help you, the ones who you gave responsibility for the moment you’ve arrived on earth, er, I guess in your case when you’ve arrived in Hell?”

“Oh absolutely. Probably even more times than one.” Gregory responded, he’d almost forgotten about Estella & what his actual mission was, but that didn’t exactly matter now, not when he was finally able to talk to the one person he’d missed.  
“Yes, life can be cruel, some days worse than others, but, after I was resurrected, I had come to learn that there will be another day to live, and that would be another day to find your true calling, or better, another reason to keep going.” Christophe recounted  
“Huh?”  
“You see, being revived wouldn’t be the best idea sometimes, you’d get people going absolutely ballistic, like “Jesus Christ, Christophe, where have you been?!” Or “Oooh, I thought you’d died!” As if anyone other than you really cared about me...” He moped.  
“My own mother didn’t even care enough to visit my grave...” Gregory stroked Christophe’s hair some more.  
“But you know what? Who needed her anyways? It’s not like my mother could just waltz on in on us and be like “Chrieeztophe! Ezz zat a boy you’re making goo goo eyeez to?!” Christophe chuckled  
“No wonder you never talk about your mom, she sounds like a hag even when you try to mimic her!”  
This made the duo laugh, harder than Gregory ever thought was possible, this really was what true happiness was like, and Gregory didn’t want it to end at all, or ever again, he cuddled with Christophe for a bit, hoping to savor the moment a bit longer...  
And then he remembered Thomas. “Goddamnit.” Gregory internally hissed.  
“Hey, I need to get going, I have a friend waiting for me, and I should probably make sure they haven’t gotten eaten by bears or god knows what back there. Nature can be a scary thing sometimes ...” He placed Christophe off of his lap & onto the ground, with extra assistance from his extra appendages.  
“Indeed it can. I once got poison ivy for a full month, almost wasted a whole bottle of calamine lotion trying to get rid of it.” Christophe casually rambled.  
“Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to apologize for coming in on such short notice, lord knows what could’ve happened if didn’t warn you, we wouldn’t want you to die again.  
“It’s all good. I actually needed someone other than myself to talk to.”

Gregory giggled as he kissed Christophe and gave him yet another hug. “I love you,toffee..”  
“I love you too, angè.”  
The End  
Shoutout to my girl Sugarandhoneytea for helping me write this as well as all y’all from the Hellpark Discord reading this (I see you, Star.)


End file.
